The Promised Land

The Promised Land,
Zion,
Canaan,
land given by God to his 'chosen'.
This real estate agreement apparently includes
the extermination of man woman child and dog
who wrongly occupy it:
'idolatry'-wrong god.
'race'-wrong skin.
Why they sacrifice a young girl,
or a king,
to make their crops grow.
And well human sacrifice is unethical.
This much they say they know.

Maybe 3000 years ago
the world could have borne
this variety of god,
a local mountain deity of storm and thunder,
a cheeky contender who took out anybody
in his way-but today?
And where did they get this story anyway?
From wise elders,
whom they were careful not to acknowledge,
and to add 3000 years of injury to insult,
they got the story wrong.

The Promised Land-
let me tell you all that is ever promised
to any of us,
this the truth which the elders taught:
that happy land
that milk and honey
that cream and nectar
is the reward for living in alignment
with the truth of What Is.
Integrity. Right conduct in right order.
Responsibility. Love for creation.
And thus sensibilities refine.
We clarify.
The Heavenly City
is our crown.
The essence of Love pours in,
and we rise out of matter
to meet it.
This is not a metaphor!
But physiological reality.
Hear me,
Zion is no earthly place.
Jerusalem is the reintegration,
the redemption of matter through spirit.
And ethical behavior
is the hallmark, the indicator,
the Sign
and the Seal.

This abomination of desolation
comes of the literalization of a story
grossly misunderstood.
The final Resurrection
for which certain ones wait
in expectation,
this establishment of the eternal Kingdom---
well, like the man said,
you must be born again.
born again not in him,
but in the truth of who you are.

Ones always choose the lesser over the greater.
Ones build a Temple
and say God lives there,
and pray to what looks bigger,
and reject their own magnitude.

Nobody with a history
of a thousand miliion murdered corpses
has a thing to say
to the world today.
The demands they make
are childish and laughable.
Who do they think they are?
That's just it-not a clue.

And meantime the truly humble
meek and righteous
lead the way, as they always do.
In this crazy funhouse hung with mirrors
it looks otherwise.

The promised land
of heart, of hand,
the rock planted beneath
and rising above the sinking, shifting sand,
has always been.
It will remain forever after
the irritating grit
is all blown away.
Even fools will have their day,
but eternity belongs to ones chosen
because they choose
to walk the walk to Zion,
beyond form or image,
perfectly empty,
perfectly full.